Wednesday, August 31, 2005

If the looting in New Orleans were only about food and essentials, I'd understand. But it's not.

A giant new Wal-Mart in New Orleans was looted, and the entire gun collection was taken, The Times-Picayune newspaper reported. "There are gangs of armed men in the city moving around the city," said Ebbert, the city's homeland security chief. Also, looters tried to break into Children's Hospital, the governor's office said.

On New Orleans' Canal Street, dozens of looters ripped open the steel gates on clothing and jewelry stores and grabbed merchandise. In Biloxi, Miss., people picked through casino slot machines for coins and ransacked other businesses. In some cases, the looting took place in full view of police and National Guardsmen.

It's frustrating to watch this happen. You want to reach through the screen and coldcock the opportunistic jagoffs.

Now they say ALL people in New Orleans must get out. The entire city is being shut down and it will take months or possibly years before the city can be secured, rebuilt and restored to anything close to "normal." The New Orleans Saints will be moved to San Antonio for the time being.

Less important but still poignant, it will be the year without Mardi Gras.

The debate has already begun regarding federal funding of coastline rebuilding projects. Should the guy who shovels snow in Michigan 4 months a year be expected to pay time after time for those who choose to live in high risk areas, enjoying the beaches and sunshine?

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

I recently reorganized my "favorites" list in Internet Explorer, moving some blogs up, some down, and some out.

As I did, I began analyzing why I made the moves. Yes, of course the ones who have a Dave's Window link are automatically the first ones I visit daily... but anyway. I never really thought about why I look forward to certain blogs more than others. I think I figured it out.

Fake factor.

There are some blogs which are understood to be fiction, an outlet for creative writing... those are some of my favorites. Others are straight from the heart and real, I like those too. Some are editorial opinion pieces, political and otherwise. Great! Love 'em.

The ones I moved down or off my list are the ones that set off my bullshit detector. It's fairly easy to sense authenticity, and although some of them are very creative, (some really funny shit) they just don't feel genuine.

I'm not the perfect blogger, sometimes I "hang it out there" a little too much... and truly I'm not HALF the writer that (I started to list my favorites here, but there are too many) some of my 'net friends are.

But what you get here is not contrived. Some is fiction, some is real. It's all me, though.

A second-grader at an O’Fallon elementary school was attacked by two pit bulls Sunday night while collecting money from a neighbor for her school’s fund-raiser.

This happened in the town where I live.

Come on, people. Whence comes a thrill with owning dangerous pets? If you need to live in fear or danger, take up skydiving.

The town where I live also received international attention recently (this link is from a publication in Australia) when a UPS driver found an albino python loose in his truck. It was scheduled for delivery to some dumb sumbitch who THINKS IT'S A GOOD IDEA TO KEEP A NINE-FOOT SNAKE AS A PET.

A fellow by the handle of DJOG on flickr.com posted a picture today I found thought provoking.

On the left, of course, is hurricane Katrina prior to landfall. On the right, a spiral galaxy somewhere in the universe. The similarities are striking.

Cycles, waves and spirals seem to be that of which the universe is comprised. Without getting too ethereal, I believe everything exists in waves, spirals, cycles. Random and unkempt as it may seem, there is order and pattern. If you step back far enough from the chaos, you'll see the spirals.

Last night, in honor of friends getting slammed by Katrina in New Orleans, I made tasty, succulent jambalaya for dinner. It was way too much for one person, so I'll have leftovers for a week. Cajun heaven, I tell ya.

Thing is, jambalaya smells up the house, and I'm not good with smells. I actually had trouble sleeping because of the scent of shrimp and spice. This happens frequently, actually... anytime I make a roast or chili... anthing aromatic.

So now I pay the price. Today it will be 90 degrees, but I will have my windows open to get the smell out. I also have candles lit and have used freshener throughout the house. Any other suggestions?

PS - if you tell me to use the blower vent thingy on the stove when cooking, I will only tell you to eat my shorts. Of COURSE I thought of that.

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Eat my shorts anyway.

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As much as I hate to see the hardship, I say... bring on the high gas prices! BRING IT ON!!!

I am watching the price of oil soar to above $70 per barrel today because of Katrina, in anticipation of interrupted refinery operation and delivery.

I believe higher gas prices will do us all good. Let's get some pressure on officials to develop alternate fuel sources. Let's do this hydrogen fuel cell thing for cars. Let's move forward with nuclear energy.

When we're in a comfort zone, nothing gets accomplished. So bring on the discomfort! The higher the price goes, the more we'll squirm. I understand this will adversely effect those who can't afford to pay. Again, that leverage will only help put pressure in the right places.

Meantime, a closed circuit message to those who can't afford higher gas prices: Bitch loudly. Make noise. Do what you can to get by, but write letters and make phone calls.

It's time to begin learning to conserve. It's time to end dependence on oil.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

...Katrina took Florida by surprise. Prior to its arrival in southern Florida, it was not a big focus of the NOAA.

It's surprised a lot of experts. Even two days ago it was predicted to possibly reach category 3. Now it's a 5 and bearing down on New Orleans. The last time that city took a direct hit by a hurricane was 1965 with Betsy, a category 3... and it's looking like Katrina could be stronger at landfall than even Camille.

If you get a chance, this coverage will be amazing. The city will be like Venice, with police boats operating around-the-clock. The storm will also blow in "funk" from the swamps, including critters like 'gators, snakes and rats. This storm will be historic, so watch if you can.

And Godspeed to my friends in New Orleans.

Side note: Nine people were killed by Katrina in southern Florida... SIX of them by falling trees. Doesn't that seem strange to you?

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I'm happy to say one of my vehicles is now in the garage. Yesterday I spent most of the day breaking down boxes, organizing shelves and moving shit. And by shit, of course I mean SHIT. Stuff I'll never again need, but for some reason moved with me.

I have a nice mower, gas string trimmer, electric trimmer, leaf blower, gas edger, hedge trimmer... which all need a home. If you're in the area and need any of these items, let me know. I'm in a selling mood.

Also a washer and dryer. Come one, come all!

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I was just watching a Sudafed commercial on television... the one where the cashier is directing everyone to aisle five.

The commercial is outdated now in some areas, where Sudafed sales is restricted. At Walgreens in my area you must sign with the phramacist for Sudafed, and you're only allowed 2 boxes a day. Sudafed is a primary ingredient in meth, so this is an effort to control production in the area.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Worse, I'm a pretentious coffee drinker. I use a grinder and fresh beans, and a Cuisinart with settings so I can contour the finished product to exacting specifications. So what? It's all a matter of taste.

If it didn't take so long I'd make it the old fashioned way, with a percolator on the stove, like my grandparents did. Every second or two the little bubble on top would turn brown and I'd hear the 'glub glub.' There is no coffee like percolator coffee. I'll bet folks in California wish they had a percolator right now, those rolling blackouts must be hell for java lovers. Can you imagine the inconvenience if they had rolling Starbucks closings?

Side note: I thought Ahnold was going to put an end to rolling blackouts in Cali! Sorry Dad, I hope you stay cool.

Honestly, the effect is all that matters. The source doesn't matter so much.

Some of the best coffee I've had was from the pot at WDAF in Kansas City, my first radio job. I was 15, basically a paid intern, and worked evenings... so I would get off the school bus and directly into Frank Haynes' car (the PM drive news guy). I never had time (nor money) for dinner, so the coffee curbed my appetite until I got home at around midnight.

Part of the reason I love coffee so much is, it always makes me think of Frank. He was a fellow java man. We would sit in the newsroom before I clocked in, and he would tell me how to write news stories. I'd tell him how much junior high algebra sucked. He would assure me that, if I got into radio, I would probably never use algebra again.

I'd like to look him up someday and buy him a cup.

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My friend and webmaster, Dave Steele, has redesigned my business website. Take a look if you want, it's pretty smooth. (you need a current version of Flash Player to view) There are a few bugs to iron out, but I like the clean, bright look. If you need a site designed, drop him a note at steele@steeleimaging.com.

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The weekend is so close I can smell it. I plan to walk the dog, clean out the garage and wash the vehicles. Beyond that, no itinerary. I'll probably keep an eye on hurricane Katrina and do some writing.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

I'm not a huge proponent of the death penalty. I believe it should be reserved only for cases in which there is no shadow of doubt, a confession and incontrovertible DNA evidence... and it should be reserved for the most heinous of crimes.

But if we're going to do it, let's really make it a deterrent. No more lethal injection... come on. The inmate just drifts off to sleep.

Case in point:

This man, Timothy Johnston, killed his wife. Now, just prior to his execution, he's filed an appeal claiming the method of execution (lethal injection) is cruel and unusually painful.

How did he end up on death row?

"Johnston killed his wife, Nancy Johnston, 27, on June 30, 1989, by beating her with his fists, a lawn chair and a rifle butt and by kicking and stomping her with steel-tipped boots. The beating began in her car and ended several blocks later at their home in the 4700 block of Minnesota Avenue."

I suggest Johnston is correct about one thing, he should be spared lethal injection. Instead, I suggest he should be beaten with fists, a lawn chair and rifle butt, then stomped with steel-toed boots until dead.

Now THAT'S a deterrent.

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I had dinner and drinks with a friend last night, and we began reminiscing about a few years ago when we first started working together. He reminded me of some things I've done, some pretty cool events that I've completely forgotten about. Stories buried in the jetsam of my busy mind... never taken out, dusted off and relived.

It reminded me of the value of blogging. I'm certain I've recorded pretty much everything of any consequence that I've done since I began this journal. I wish I'd been writing these things down all along.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

My friend Steve Mays and I had lunch and a few beers last weekend, and got into a fascinating conversation about blogging, podcasting and the media.

I will let you check his site for his opinions on most of it, but he told me of a theory he's developed which he calls the "48 hour rule." It basically says that when a person begins a blog and fails to write anything past the first entry within 48 hours, their blog will eventually fail for lack of interest.

We also discussed how some people burn out on blogging because of self-imposed pressure. They develop anxiety about the pithiness of their pieces, believing each must be earth-shattering or deeply meaningful.

I don't need to tell you I DON'T have that type of anxiety. Sometimes I have nothing on my mind, so I post something about blogging theories and having beers with a friend...

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I went with a friend to see Wedding Crashers last night and was pleasantly surprised. This movie is very well done! I found new respect for the comic prowess of Vince Vaughn, who even upstaged Owen Wilson 0n this one.

The surprise of the film is an unannounced appearance by Will Farrell, who plays a seasoned wedding crasher that sets the standards for the "industry."

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I want to invent a new product... a fan called "The Ironic Breeze." Turn it on, and people within the fan's reach know the difference between irony and... not irony. Coincidence, double entendre, things like that.

A little "twist" to my fan would be that it also removes stray particles of iron from the air.

Now, would that twist be considered ironic, coincidence or double entendre? Turn on the fan and instantly you know.

I wish I had invented The Ironic Breeze prior to Alanis Morrissette writing her song "Ironic."

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Speaking of irony... the word abbreviation is a 5 syllable word.

Why don't name abbreviations or nicknames make sense? How is it that someone named John can be nicknamed Jack? Usually nicknames are meant to shorten or simplify. Shouldn't John be shortened to Jo or something?

Why is it that someone named Margaret gets the shortened nickname Peg? PEG? Wouldn't it be Marge? Then, as if Peg weren't good enough, somebody comes along and gives Peg the longer nickname Peggy. I don't get this.

Another baffling one is Heidi. It's short for Adeleine. HUH? Shouldn't it be short for something like Heidasalami?

Henry is shortened to Hank... not even close. Polly is a nickname for Mary, and Dody for Theadore. (??)

Then you have the borderline cases, near-offenders of the "sounds like" rule, when William is shortened to Bill... and Robert to Bob. They are at least CLOSE, so I'll let them slide.

All of this I say... just prior to announcing that my nickname is Mookie. But at least that's not short for David.

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Hypocrisy.

"Religious broadcaster Pat Robertson called on Monday for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, calling him a “terrific danger” to the UnitedStates."

Are you a pro-lifer, Pat? If so, get with the goddamn program. Pro-life means anti-death penalty and anti-ASSASSINATION.

It's ironic that pro-life people are some of the first to be pro-death penalty and pro-assassination.

Monday, August 22, 2005

In my life and career I have met almost every country music artist and partied with most of them. However, for whatever reason I have an uncanny knack of meeting celebrities in elevators.

Once in New York at the Plaza Hotel I was headed out for some shopping. I got in an empty elevator on the fifth floor and started down. It stopped one floor below me and in walks Jerry Springer. Just me and Jerry, watching the numbers. I said nothing to him, because truly I wanted to strangle him for what he's done to television. At the bottom, as I exited, I did finally say "have a nice day."

On another occasion at a hotel in Kansas City, I was walking down the hall toward the elevators when a door opened behind me and I began hearing music from a boom box. Then I heard a somewhat familiar voice singing along to the tape. I didn't want to seem rude by turning around, so I continued toward the elevator and pushed the button. The singing continued, but still I didn't look. When the 'vator finally arrived, I got in and turned around. Rod Stewart, Rachel Hunter and Rod's manager stepped in. They were heading out to find dinner before his concert that night, and struck up a conversation with me about where they should go. I told them where I was headed, but I'm not sure if they took my advice.

I knew they were staying in the room next to me, so later in the evening when I knew Rod would be on stage, I went next door and knocked lightly. Long story short, Rachel and I made sweet, sweet love until the early morning hours.* I can't believe I've finally told someone this story... it's such a relief to have it off my chest.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

It is widely believed that Sunday was created by God as a day of rest. Some prefer to spend the day frying chicken, baking pies... and invite the whole family over to catch up with each other.

I prefer to not be alone on Sundays, (for reasons that would bore you) it makes me reflective and blue... so I usually try to hang with my daughter or make plans with friends. But at the end of the day, I will most likely have spent at least some of my Sunday by myself, in silence. Maybe that is what I fear about Sunday, the quiet. A chance for things normally buried beneath the din, to slip back to the surface.

And now I'll "tag" 5 people, who will (as I understand it) have to post their 5 fav's on THEIR blogs.

Hoss (I guaran-damn-tee one of his will be "Old Cold Tater")Chris Cope (I guaran-damn-tee one will be a welsh folk song)Steve (something cutting edge and cool)Dr. Mike (only tagging him so he will finally post something new)AmandaRRRRama (she's just too cool not to tag)

Thursday, August 18, 2005

When you move, there's a lot more to do than just what's on the surface. You have to completely recreate the kingdom outside the house too. Find a favorite grocery store, a place to get your hair cut, the post office, a car dealership that services your brand. I've done exactly none of these things yet.

Today, for instance. I had to take time out of my workday for an oil change and wheel balance on the car. It has to be done, according to the lease, at a BMW dealership... so I drove clear across town to drop it off and get a loaner, come all the way back across town to get work done in the studio, I'll need to drive ALL the way back to pick it up, then drive clear to south county for dinner with friends.

After which, it will be time for an oil change again! Plus, I'll need to take out a second mortgage to buy the goddamn gas for all this driving.

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Speaking of gas... because of the high gas prices, topping off the tank to the nearest dollar has become a freakin' art form. Do you know how hard it is to get that MF to stop at the nearest dollar when the numbers move so fast? One little squeeze (that used to kick it up a penny) now shoots 3 cents worth into the tank. $60.02. Shit.

Topping off a tank accurately will soon be an olympic event. It's a lot harder than curling.

"...four U.S. senators said that signs of rising temperatures on Earth are obvious and they called on Congress to act."

Two of the four are republicans, and none would be considered "environmental wackos." So to those friends/readers who have long buried their heads in the sand and refused to see the evidence (whose names shall go unmentioned here on my friendly blog) I say, welcome to reality. Welcome to a changed earth. Now let's start putting our heads together and figure out how to reverse some of the damage.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Wal Mart posted it's weakest earnings increase in years this quarter. All together now - Awwwwwww!

I was just in a Wal Mart last night and have decided that unless absolutely necessary, I'm finished supporting them. First, in an effort to save pennies they've downgraded the quality of much of their inventory to the point that I refuse to buy it.

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. There are several other reasons I'm leaving "Wally World":

1 - Labor practices. Rock-bottom benefits and wages make Wal Mart a good example of competition run amok. They command their share of the discount store business on the backs of their employees, who generally make less than average and work more. They indiscriminately hire illegals without checking status.

2 - They are large enough. Yet they keep building stores. They now generate profit in the several billion range quarterly and it grows all the time. Wal Mart has become the black-hole of the business world, hungrily consuming smaller businesses with reckless disregard... quickly doing their part at eliminating middle-class America and forever tipping the balance toward complete corporate domination. (oh shit, now I'm sounding like an alarmist ultra-liberal)

3 - They screw people with a smile. Read THIS story if you have a minute.

4 - Wal Mart is now so large it is opening it's own bank to process credit, debit and other transactions in order to maximize profit. Again, the banks and credit unions who have long depended on Wal Mart's business get buried beneath the behemoth weight of the beast. Eventually they will provide their own electricity for their stores through the Walton Electric Company. Then they eliminate brand names all together, selling nothing but store brands manufactured in-house.

5 - They're just easy to hate.

Please, lest you think I'm not a greedy capitalist... let me say I am as capitalistic as they come. But there's a point at which we need to place limits and slow growth of a company in order to provide an atmosphere of equitable business opportunity. Otherwise we run the risk of eventually becoming the United States of Wal Mart.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

It's a custom here in The Window to translate my horoscope from it's ambiguous message, into what it really means. But I found it profoundly more funny to read Regis' horoscope in the context of a dog's life and apply it to him. Here's his translation.

Regis' horoscope SAYS:

CANCER (June 21-July 22) Others look for you. If you are to get anything done, consider closing your door. Review what is being asked, and you'll know what to do. You are on top of a situation. Tonight: Let everything play out.

Regis' horoscope MEANS:

CANCER (June 21-July 22) Kramer the cat may seem independent, but he watches you for guidance regarding toy manipulation and destruction. You might want to do it in the bedroom closet to preserve your secrets, since he's scared of it in there. Review the rules about drool and potty, consider that it's a great opportunity to be outside several times a day, (also keeping in mind that THAT'S where the rabbits are) and remember that it's no fun to have your nose rubbed against carpet. Your "sad eye" look is a perfect approach to getting to lie on the couch occasionally, and rolling over on your back almost always gets a tummy rub... clearly you are in charge at your house. Tonight: Kramer the cat will again piss off Dad because of his constant meowing and distaste for peanut butter, it all works to your advantage because you'll likely get more Beggin' Strips and bad breath bones for being a "good boy."

Sunday, August 14, 2005

After spending last evening with friends at a casino, I'm firmly convinced gambling is the great satan. Damn you, Blackjack. Damn you to hell!

The jagoff sitting next to me didn't make things any better. He was talking to someone behind him, non-chalantly taking blackjack after blackjack (which clearly should have been mine) and, when he didn't get a blackjack, making bad decisions which cost me money. Not to mention, he was carrying on a conversation behind him and delaying the game on almost every deal.

Not that I'm bitter.

Most know I love spicy food, so a stop at an Indian restaurant last night was a real treat for me. My buddy Gary and I had already hit a steakhouse, where I handily defeated a 16-ounce KC strip and baked sweet potato, but decided to meet up with friends at The India Palace anyway. I had a small plate of a chicken dish that peeled several layers of mucous membrane away from the inside of my piehole. My kind of eatin'!

I can only imagine what the demand must be for gastroenterologists in Calcutta.

Today is a lazy Sunday, it's finally raining in St. Louis after another dry spell that had everything turning a crispy brown. I'm sitting in front of the big screen with a cup of coffee and my laptop. It's a good day.

I'm watching a piece on Fox News about all of the teacher sex scandals have been uncovered in the past few years. They showed pictures of some of the teachers who've been involved, and all I could think of was, WHY NOT ME?

This woman had a sexual relationship with her 13-year-old student. First, let me say that any adult who has sex with a 13-year-old is completely perverted, but of all "horribly tragic" things that have happened in my life, why couldn't THIS be one of them?

Here's another totally smokin' teacher who had sex with one of her students. (she's the one on the right) Funny how things change... when I was in school it was fashionable to give your teacher an apple. Now, you give her a "baby's arm holding an apple."*

If a male teacher had sex with his female student, there would be a far louder public outcry, don't you agree?

Friday, August 12, 2005

I'm a science-minded guy. I don't buy into legend/lore, and I'm not good at taking things on "faith."

For instance, I am concerned about global warming, based on evidence and study. Those who deny the existence of global warming, however, have a valid argument... there is a plethora of evidence supporting active, accelerating global warming, yet some figures just haven't jived with that evidence.

After correcting for the problem, the researchers estimate there has been a global temperature increase of 0.4 degree Fahrenheit, per decade, for the last 30 years. ''Unfortunately, the warming is in an accelerating trend — the climate has not yet caught up with what we've already put into the atmosphere."

Now what will be the excuse? Ah, hell. The world won't become a cinder during MY lifetime, so why should I worry?

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Speaking of, I have a great deal of respect for people of faith. It's not for me, but I think if you have a personal commitment to a religious lifestyle or idea, that's great.

But hypocrisy is rampant in many churches, and now it appears it may exist in the American bastion of Catholicism, St. Patrick's Cathedral in NY.

There is evidence that Monsignor Eugene Clark is having an affair with his long-time secretary. He denies it, but has tenured his resignation.

Clearly something's rotten in the state of the Catholic church, and I know what it is. It's time to bring things into the 21st century. The idea that priests aren't allowed to carry on a human existence is archaic and unrealistic. If priests aren't allowed to marry, how can they have the credibility required for marriage counseling? If I'm going to receive counseling, that person had better have been through it. Preferrably a couple of times!

It's just wrong to expect a human to live a life of abstinence, it's unnatural. The Bible itself encourages sex. And let's face it, we guys are much happier when we're gettin' some.

And why is it a sin to prevent conception of an unwanted child? Isn't it more sinful to bring a child into the world and not be able to provide adequate parenting? Unwanted children make for unhappy, unsettled and unproductive members of society. And it's just sad.

People are human, they are succeptible to human "flaws." To expect someone to abide by unrealistic laws only elevates temptation and invites hypocrisy. I don't deny Minsignor Clark's need for sexual relations, nor should he. But let's not judge others when our own "back porch" needs sweeping.

The great news is, the American Lung Assn has logged more than double the average number of online quitters because of what is now being called "The Jennings Effect."

And I found this statistic reassuring... the percentage of adult smokers has dropped from 46 percent in 1964 to 22 percent today. Only 20 percent for women. (if that's true, why are all the really good looking women I see in bars puffing away? Especially if doing so resigns any chance they have for dating me.)

And why am I such a hypocrite about smoking? I smoke cigars, about one per week. No inhaling, but still the nasty breath.

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Just saw a story on NBC about how Google Earth is inadvertently providing an opportunity for terrorists to see satellite photos of our military positions in Iraq and plan attacks accordingly. The report stated "while there's no indication the insurgents have used this technology, intelligence analysts say it's likely just a matter of time."

Yeah, especially when they see this freakin' report. I'm all about the media and freedom, but the poignant irony here is unavoidable.

And here I am, contributing... even providing a link to Google Earth. But it's not like Zawahiri reads the Dave page.

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I'm now seeing how the NYC Department of Health is urging restaurants to eliminate trans-fats from their menu.

Will there never be a time when people can, on their own volition, practice restraint? Americans, actually humans in general, have trouble with the word MODERATION. But we certainly don't need more legislation to "keep us safe." I can see it coming now, the DOH will be outlawing margarine next. Then chocolate. Then dairy products. Where does it end?

Those who want government to impose restraint upon us puzzle me.

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Let me clarify my position from yesterday's post. I have no problem with fast food restaurants, I frequent them... um, frequently. And I love me a thick, juicy steak or burger. My point is, don't freak out about a relatively minute risk while ignoring the bigger ones around you. By all means, do what makes you happy. I just find it funny how people think.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Our high level of concern with West Nile virus seems so completely and utterly misplaced when you consider our LACK of concern for the ingredients of the crap-that-passes-for-food we eat.

You want irony? Here's irony. Parents are sending their kids outside covered with thick coats of insect repellent... right after feeding them a meal from McDonalds, which adds fat to your system, gets in your sweat... and attracts mosquitos.

Which is more risky, the 1:1,000,000 chance you'll be bitten by a mosquito with West Nile, or the 1:1 chance french fries will contribute to clogged arteries?Don't sweat the small stuff, sweat the big stuff. And of course by sweat, I mean the thick, sebaceous kind that oozes slowly from your pores after gorging yourself with a Hardee's thick burger.

I spent most of the day yesterday dealing with an internet provider who has no idea what good customer service is. I've been round the horn with these people, trying to get my service up and functional, and apparently I'm expecting too much. Gosh, how was I to know I was such a bother?

I'm certain the most often-heard words by Charter cable's customer "service" reps are, "I need to speak to your supervisor." And the attitude with which they respond to that statement is shocking... they become defensive and pretty much tell you no. WHAT?!? No, I may not talk to your supervisor? Hey, kid, that's what supervisors are FOR. To talk to. That's it. Put them on the phone now.

The job of Supervisor must be the easiest job on Earth. All you do is talk on the phone.

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The task of packing to move is an interesting evolution. At first, you're orderly and careful. Each cabinet goes in a different box, categorized meticulously. Then, when you start running low on packing supplies, you modify the way you wrap things. Then the calendar kicks in and starts modifying your entire approach. By the day before the move, you're throwing anything you can find into any box, promising to sort it all out on the other end.

Now I'm sorting. This sucks. I reassembled a desk last night, but couldn't find the packet of screws from the disassembly... which I ended up just throwing into "some box" when I was packing. So I cobbled it together with screws from my supply box, which I had to unpack from a box in the garage...

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

The most worn button on the car stereo is itself a microcosm of the human condition.

Life is a race, and in the end we discover we’ve only been racing against ourselves. Those that have been through it try to warn us, yet we run faster. We change jobs, channels, spouses and lifestyles so fast we seldom have a chance to evaluate, enjoy and breathe.

Right here, right now, I cannot tell you the last time I sat in a porch swing and watched the afternoon drift by. I don’t remember when I last took a walk without my watch. I wish I knew what the neighbors are up to these days. I wish I knew if my fishing rod and reel still worked.

I believe I’ve reached the point where I can say… the Joneses can screw themselves. After last week's tiring, arduous move, I’ve decided I’m going to sit still for a spell. I have a perfect place in the yard for a hammock… and a big mason jar perfect for iced tea. I’m putting a cover over the scan button.

Go on without me if you must, I’m going to listen to the rest of this song. Then maybe I’ll give the dog a bath.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

It appears that Russians, given their obvious disposition to dying aboard underwater vessels, would give it up. If I knew that somewhat-boring 40 year old men (okay, 41 - screw you) who are voice over artists tend to die while... oh, let's say ice fishing with Ernest Borgnine... I would immediately delete his number from my cell phone. I realize he's dead, but it's just an example.

Where these Russians get the balls to continue climbing into pressurized barrels of death and sinking to the bottom of the ocean is beyond me. Russian people, listen to me. The next sub you should consider getting involved with should be a 12-inch B.M.T. with extra peppers, mayo and pickles.

Hold the Jared.

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Moving has been quite an experience. Props to my friends Ron, Gary, Bird, Karen, Mike, Paula, Chris, Bill, Debbie... and my wife Tawnya for all the help. Bird has shown that he has no decorator savvy, so I'm keeping him busy unpacking bar booze.

I'm working with engineers wiring the new studio and getting it ready. It will be in a temporary room for a month or two, until the new room addition is finished. Things are right on schedule.

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My daughter Courtney turned sweet 16 Thursday. It appears my time perception is a little akimbo, I just changed her diaper and played patty cake with her yesterday.

She is such a blessing to me. Whatever my accomplishments in life, first and foremost I will have been Courtney's Dad.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

I'm in the new place and unpacking. After 5 nights of 4 hours of sleep or less, I crashed last night and didn't wake up until after 8 today. It's good to be moved in, now I wish I were settled. One step at a time. Thanks for all the kind words and good wishes.

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My new place was previously owned by an older couple, who had the place built... so they were responsible for it's design. I must say, there are some things that older people are good at... and a few, not so good.

The GOOD:

*Convenience. (Picking where light switches go and what they do, great shelves in the garage for tools, a built-in dishwasher in the bar, etc.)

*Paint choices. (a bathroom that seems to be a cross between pumpkin and baby shit)

*Decorating. (touring the place prior to buying, I had to mentally filter out the furniture and decor to get an idea of the potential of the place)

*Driving. (the back of the garage has a couple of obvious drywall patches where it looks like they forgot to hit the brakes... perhaps in a hurry to hit the bathroom before they filled their discreet, absorptive undergarments)

All in all, I'm really happy with the place and will settle in nicely. See you tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

This is command central, a single chair in a room full of corrugated memories.

Everything is packed, the house is quiet. Stacks of boxes clutter the once-beautiful Morris manse, and the only thing connected to the outside world is my trusty laptop. The dog's at my feet and I'm having coffee. It's a sad day, the "last stand" at the house my wife and I shared.

The silence has set me in a state of solemn reverie. Things never work out exactly the way you want - but they work out.

Monday, August 01, 2005

You know you are an addicted blog... um, writer... when you have your entire household boxed up and ready to move except your laptop, and you still take time to write something in hopes you won't lose readers by taking a few days off.

My coffee pot is packed, so I am using the drive-thru at Starbucks to satisfy my caffeine requirements. Let me preface what I'm about to say with a statement to food service professionals everywhere:

You are appreciated. When I dine in a restaurant and the service and attitude is good, I am a 20 percent tipper. I love you people, your job is, in many ways, more important and impactful than mine.

Now then, my issue. There was a tip jar at the drive-thru window of Starbucks. Yes. A tip jar sitting on the ledge outside the window.

Oh sure, I'm aware that all the extra training, years of college and historical study of coffee beans and the personal commitment it requires to become a licensed Barista doesn't come cheap.

Oh wait... there is no extra training, college, license or commitment. It's a drive-thru job! Just like McDonalds, only you don't have to ask about fries. It's a job where you prepare a product and hand it to the customer. There's no water-filling, no extra care that comes with waiting a table, and apparently no smiling.

Add to that, the fact that I'm being charged 4 dollars for a freakin' cup of joe. And you want me to tip you?